


Death Doesn't Discriminate

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Everyone Is Gay, Grief/Mourning, High School, How Do I Tag, Multi, This Is Sad, grammarly betas this, like i just kill philip and everyone reacts, no beta we die like men, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After Philip (Pip) gets shot. How do they react to it? Will they ever recover?I'm bad at summaries so just enjoy.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Angelica Hamilton/Anastasie Louise Pauline du Motier, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan, Maria Reynolds/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is kind of a redo of my previous work. I wanted to approach it differently. Also, after reading this over, it has a couple of similarities to If There's a Reason by SparrowFlight246. It definitely goes in a different direction, but just a disclaimer. Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> TW: person getting shot, grief, and anxiety.

Angie stares down at the piano, her vision swimming. The black and white shapes she is so used to seeing are now a blurry mix of grey. Her hands are moving, using muscle memory to play something she’s done a thousand times before. 

Angie tries to focus on the music, focus on the keys that are too blurry to see, but the thoughts keep coming back. One second, her mind follows the music as it descends, and the next, she’s back beside her brother, watching as he exhales his last breath. The music gets higher, and then she’s in the police station, getting questioned because she’s a witness. As her fingers approach the highest notes, she stares at them, thinking of bloody hands from trying to stop the bleeding. 

The music crescendos and she hears the sound of a bullet leaving a gun. She’s in that moment, the moment that seems to last forever and still not be enough time. She hears the thump of a body falling to the ground. She surveys the world around her, searching for who the bullet was intended to reach. Someone screams, someone falls to the ground beside the victim. Oh. It’s her screaming, screaming because that’s her brother on the ground, and this isn’t supposed to happen. 

There’s blood, too much blood, and she has to do something to stop it. She’s read survival guides, but right now she can’t think of anything they said to do. Put pressure on it? Yes, pressure. She puts her weight on the wound, and Pip moans in pain. His face is losing color, his eyes are glassy. She keeps putting pressure on the wound. “I’m so sorry!” She shouts as he lets out a painful yelp. It becomes a mantra. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, please, I’m sorry!” Pip squeaks out a reply. “Don’t be sorry,” he whispers.

After an eternity, the ambulance arrives, and paramedics are running to Pip’s side. They push her away, and they’re putting him in the ambulance. She begs to go with them, pleading and crying until she’s nothing but a soggy heap on the ground. They’ve left though, and Pip is gone.

Someone is pulling her away, putting her in a police car. They say something to her, something about questioning her, but Angie only hears the sound of the bullet leaving the gun. It repeats over and over until she can’t do anything but cover her ears and scream. Someone yells angrily at her. Angie doesn’t hear it.

Someones leading her into a building, sitting her down at a table. Angie feels like she’s floating, and her mind is still on that bloody sidewalk. A man comes into the room. “Did you see who shot Philip Hamilton?” He has the overwhelming presence of seriousness, of authority.

The name is what upsets Angie. Nobody calls Pip Philip. That isn’t his name, it hasn’t been for years. And that’s when she realizes that Pip might die, that he might never come home from the hospital, that his headstone will say, Philip Hamilton. The room starts to feel too small like the walls are closing in on her. The man is shouting at her, and Angie can’t respond, because she can’t breathe or even talk. The man leaves the room soon after, and Angie is alone.  
Angie stares up at the ceiling, but her eyes don’t see anything. All she can see is the headstone that she’s imagined, cold and grey and unfeeling. The door slams shut, and Angie flinches. “You can go,” the man says, “We have all the information we need.” Angie looks at him, her eyes red-rimed and puffy. When she doesn’t move, the man taps her on the shoulder. “Um, you should go. Like, we need this room.”

Angie walks out of the room, out of the police station. She feels the warmth of the sun beating down on her. Then she realizes she needs a ride. She takes out her phone and presses a random contact.

“Angie?” asks her Aunt Angelica. “Why are you calling me?”

Angie clears her throat. “Um, I need a ride to the hospital?” Her voice is hoarse and broken, and her words barely come out.

“The hospital? Angie, why? Where are you?” Angie can hear the sound of a car motor.

“I’m at the police station,” Angie says. Then her aunt is asking why and what happened and is she okay and other questions that Angie can’t answer. So she hangs up, deciding to let her aunt find out when she gets here.

Angie waits, leaning against the wall of the police station. There a few tears running down her face, and she doesn’t wipe them away. She’s tired, so tired, but she has to see Pip. She has to go to Pip, she has to see him.

Fifteen minutes later, a car pulls up to the police station. Aunt Angelica is pissed, but her anger seems to turn to concern when she sees Angie.

“Angie…” Angelica says, starting the car. “What the hell is going on?”

Angie tries to speak. “So, um Pip…” There’s blood, blood everywhere. Pip yelps. She’s pulled away. “He…” A bullet leaving a gun. Looking for the target. Screaming in the back of a police car.

“Woah, hey, it’s okay.” Angelica intervenes as Angie starts to panic. “You don’t have to tell me now if it’s too hard. But Christ Angie, you’re covered in blood, and I need to know if you’re seriously injured.” She looks at Angie expectantly; Angelica isn’t one to wait for answers.

“I’m fine,” Angie says, emotionless. “I just need to get to the hospital.” Her voice breaks on the last word.

“Alright.” Angelica concedes but there’s still concern in her voice. “We can do that.”

It seems like hours, but it’s probably less than thirty minutes, and Angie is finally in the waiting room of the hospital. Pip was shot at eight in the morning. It’s now two. Her Dad, John is there too. He jogs over to them, relief clear in his expression. He looks tired, lines etched into his face that Angie was sure weren’t there before.

“Angie! I’ve been so-” 

“Where is he?” she asks, impatiently. She stares at her dad with a look filled with anxiety. “Where is he!”

“Angie,” her dad says, sounding ten years older than he was that morning. “He’s still in surgery. He’ll probably be there for a few more hours.” He breathes in, deeply. “How are you?”

He reaches over to comfort her. A door closes and Angie finches at the sound. “It doesn’t matter.” She sighs, sensing Angie and John’s uneasiness. “Seriously, don’t worry about me.”

She sits down in a hard plastic chair, crossing her arms. She sees doctors moving around. It’s calm. Her brother could be dying, why is it so fucking calm! Tears threaten to pour from her eyes, and Angie puts her head in her hands. 

“Angie.” John sits beside her, puts his hand on her back. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

Nobody there believes him.

Angie tries to go back to playing the piano, but she can’t. There isn’t music anymore. When she looks down, all she sees are shaking hands. Where was the piano? She didn’t know where she was. She shouldn’t still be in this nightmare. But she’s pinching herself, and she’s not waking up. She screams, and someone comes close to her, looks her in the eye. It’s her Dad.

“Where am I?” She croaks, her voice gone.

“We’re in the hospital.”

Angie doesn’t understand. It wasn’t just a nightmare, it was a flashback. Not only was it a flashback, but it was one that she was still living in. Pip’s life was still in limbo, and there was still blood on her hands.


	2. Meet Frances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Frances, and watch her embark on a long car ride.

Frances Hamilton was driving, driving faster than she’d ever driven in her life. Her hands were turning white as she gripped the steering wheel, and she was shaking. Her phone had one of those little GPS maps open, and it had her going back home. 

Frances knew she was breaking the speed limit. She knew she was driving pretty dangerously, and that she really should not be behind the wheel right now, but that was too bad. She couldn’t care less about that at the moment, actually, because her brother had just been fucking shot, and nothing else mattered.

She had been in the middle of a lecture when her phone had started buzzing like someone was calling her. At first, she thought it was just an advertiser, but when she went to silence her phone, she saw that it was her dad. Huh, that’s a bit weird, he wouldn’t call me in the middle of the day like this, she thought. Frances decided to ignore it but to answer if he called again.

He did. Multiple times. So Frances quietly excused herself from the lecture hall, stepping outside with her phone.

“Dad? Why are you calling me in class? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Frances asked, a bit jokingly.

“Frances…”, her dad paused, taking a deep breath. He sounded pretty distraught. “Um, Pip was shot maybe an hour ago, and he’s currently in surgery.” He took in a deep breath that might have been a sob. “Um, it doesn’t look that great, right now? So, um, you might want to come.”

Frances was confused. What? Pip couldn’t have been shot. Why would someone shoot him? This had to be a prank. But it was November, and her dad wouldn’t prank her like this. This was probably real.

“Frances?”

Oh. She had to go, she had to leave, she had to do something. “Um, yeah, I’ll come. Call me if anything changes?”. Her voice was flat.

“Alright. Stay safe.” Then John hung up.

Frances walked back into the lecture hall, grabbed the rest of her stuff, and left again. She started the walk over to where her car was parked. She had inherited it from the Lafayette-Mulligan’s after they were done with it, but didn’t use it often at college. Because she didn’t use it much, it was currently parked about a half-mile away.

At least she had some time to come up with a plan, because she had a problem. She was currently in Ann Arbor, Michigan. She needed to get to New York City, fast. Two options were available; number one, go to the airport and try to get some sort of flight, or number two, get in the car and just drive.  
Frances preferred option two. If she had a miracle and was able to get on a flight, she’d have to wait a long time, and then she might have to rent a car at whatever location she popped out at. If she drove, she had control over her speed, and she could leave right now. She also wouldn’t have to spend a ton of money on a flight and rental.

She saw her car and started running to it, before throwing open the car door, checking her gas, and starting the drive.

So now, Frances was about five hours into the drive, and she’d probably make it there in another 4. Her phone buzzed, and Frances nearly swerved out of her lane. A car honked, but Frances was more worried about whatever update she had gotten.

She swiped it down, only to find that the notification was because her phone was on fifteen percent battery. “Well, shit.” She fumbled around in the glove compartment. “Please have a charger, please have a charger…” Frances came up empty-handed. She sighed as the other compartment was also a dud.

“Fuck me.” She needed her phone for navigation. She needed it in case there were any updates. Frances would need it when she got to the hospital, to find out where the waiting room was. “Fuck me!”

Alright. She could afford to lose the navigation. The drive was mostly just speeding on the interstate, and as long as she memorized the exit, she’d be okay. That wouldn’t be enough though. She’d have to put the phone on extended battery saver, which would limit her data. She might miss some updates. But Frances had to, and in a way, it might be a good thing. When she was on the drive, there was nothing she could do for Pip, except keep going. And if she was going to freak out every time her phone got a notification, maybe it was better for her to take a break from the phone.

Frances took a deep breath and focused on the long road ahead.

It was about four and a half hours later, and she had arrived at the hospital. Pulling her phone out of her pocket with shaking hands, she pulled up her notifications. There was a text from her dad from maybe four hours ago. It was simple just an, “out of surgery”. Frances didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

She rushed around the hospital, following the signs to the waiting room. At first, she thought she’d made another wrong turn until she saw her family. There was a long row of plastic chairs, maybe seven or eight of them Angie was curled up in the last chair on the row. Her clothes looked weird because there were these red patches… blood. Angie’s clothes were wet with blood.

Alex, her other dad, was in the chair next to her. His head was in his hands and Frances could see him slightly trembling. John was next to him, and he looked rather pale. He was staring at the ceiling as if it would erase his problems.

John saw her. “Frances?”

She walked over and sat down next to them. “How has he been?” She was picking at her nails, nervously.

“Um, It’s…” He sighed. “It’s not good. It was already bad, but it’s infected now, so…” He gasped. “We don’t know what’ll happen,” he whispered, swiping at his eyes.

He took in a long breath. “He’s having some tests done now, but we’ll probably be able to see him tonight.” John made eye contact with her, confused. “How did you get here so quickly? It must have been hell to get a fight on such short notice.”

Frances let out a nervous chuckle. “I-uh, I drove here.”

“You drove here? Like, non-stop?” Her dad’s eyebrows raised.

Frances stared at her shoes. “Um, yeah, I did.”

John smiled, his eyes crinkling. “You’re a good sister, Frances.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter will be up within the next 1-2 weeks, depending on how fast I write and how much I procrastinate. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	3. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry that this ones a bit short, but I couldn't figure out how to finish this in a better way. Also, all my knowledge of sepsis comes from the book And Then You're Dead (check it out, it's amazing), and I'm not a medical expert. My research has shown me that I am stretching the truth until it breaks. Anyway, enjoy!

1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.

When Angie was stressed or confused, she would count. Specifically, she would count to ten over and over. She was counting now, counting the beeps of Pip’s heart monitor. He was finally out of surgery, and they were allowed to see him. Angie had her eyes squeezed shut. 

When she saw Pip in the hospital bed, so pale and small and still, it just felt wrong. It wasn’t supposed to look like this, this didn’t make any sense. So she shut her eyes and counted.

A more rational person would have stopped counting hours ago, would have attempted sleep. Light was starting to seep through a window, and the morning was slowly creeping upon them. Part of Angie wanted to stop counting, wanted to tune out all of the noise. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop counting, because if she was counting, and if the monitor was beeping, it meant that Pip was still alive. And that was all that mattered.

The counting also allowed her to escape her thoughts and worries. It gave her one thing to focus on and let everything else go.

1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.

Frances felt more like she was watching a film than living in this moment. If it was a movie, it was a pretty crappy one. She was curled up on one of the waiting room chairs, pretending that sleep was an option.

She had heard the doctor talking to her parents, even though she wished she hadn’t. Apparently, the wound was infected, which would make it more dangerous. They had him on antibiotics, but there was a chance they wouldn’t work. If they didn’t work, there was nothing else they could do.

“We’ll know more if he survives the night,” the doctor had said.

If. There was a question of if her brother would be alive tomorrow. Frances couldn’t process that information, couldn’t comprehend it. She tried to imagine a world without Pip. A world without him facetimeing her at least once a week at the worst possible times. A world where there were only four chairs at the table, a world where Pip’s things were no longer strewn around the house. She hated that world, the emptiness of it. She didn’t have the same relationship with Pip that Angie did. Frances and Pip would fight, they’d torture each other, but they’d both be laughing at the end of it. Would she ever hear that laugh again?

The rest of her family wasn’t coping well either. Angie was huddled in a corner, whispering something to herself. John was sleeping on the floor next to Pip’s bed, and Alex was leaned up against the doorway, staring blankly ahead. Without Pip, their family would be nothing. They wouldn’t be able to go on.

She could hear Angie whispering out loud now. She was repeatedly counting to ten. Frances was worried about Angie, worried about how there was drying blood on her clothes, worried about how Angie had actually seen it happen. She’d been there.

Angie wasn’t already in an awesome mental place to begin with. Angie had social anxiety and had been struggling with that forever. Angie had been working on it, but it was definitely still hovering over her shoulder. Frances didn’t know what she would do if Pip died. What would they do? 

Frances checked her watch. It was a few minutes past five. She smiled because Pip would make it through the night. At least, depending on what the definition of the night was. Well, this was definitely close enough.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7- This beeping sound lasted longer. Too long. People started rushing into the room, and someone dragged her out. Again. She could hear snippets of what was happening, but the full picture was lost to her.

“I’m doing chest compressions!” Someone says.

“Get him breathing again!” Another shouts.

There’s more chaos until a doctor responds. “Fuck! He’s gone into sepsis without us knowing!”

There’s the noise of people grabbing things, metal banging together, footsteps. It continues, until a resigned voice says, “We’ve lost him.”

The meaning of the words doesn’t really hit Angie. She can’t stop thinking about the number seven. Pip had always said it was his lucky number, for no goddamn reason. Well. He was very wrong about that, or he had a twisted perception of reality that Angie didn’t know about. She guessed that it was the former.

A doctor came to talk to them, saying the words that Angie will never forget.

“Philip Hamilton was pronounced dead at 5:07 this morning,” the doctor says. Angie doesn’t listen to the rest of the conversation. She can’t. She can’t do anything in a world without Pip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, two things you need to know:
> 
> 1\. Sorry that this chapter is a bit late. I got hyper-fixated on the impeachment trials, and couldn't do anything but just watch. I did write something, though, so you can check it out!
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vSlVx1vXukcbJwBUYw5AD5OmeOIdUxae3OgFBeUvoRrFhniSPpu94uy8hEwTKQ1vd4y34VKODMdrBIu/pub
> 
> 2\. My school goes back to hybrid next week. With that in mind, next chapter might be released at a weird time. It will be within the next 2 weeks though!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and thank you for your comments and kudos, they give me more serotonin than they should!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I'll try to get an update out next Thursday/Fridayish. Also, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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